


Chained Up and Howling

by YellowBlue



Series: American Wildlife [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Comeplay, Coming Untouched, John still has a tight ass, Large Cock, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Riding, Rough Sex, Tiny Spoilers for chapter 3, Touch Starved John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBlue/pseuds/YellowBlue
Summary: That John is good at evading and ignoring his problems was nothing new. The unspoken commitment that he never wanted to make and the constant feeling of being cornered by the expectations of the others are slowly driving him away from the rest of the gang. Dutch's golden boy was on the run again, only be stopped by Arthur Morgan.





	Chained Up and Howling

**Author's Note:**

> Can definitely be read without reading "Running with Wolves" first, but there is something like a red line there.

"That brat's not mine! Whoever put that baby in you, it wasn't me!"

 

John stared into the flames of the small campfire in front of him, recalling the words that he had uttered in a blind rage only hours ago. The stillness of the living forest and the low crackling of the logs in the fire where his only company on that early evening.

 

Abigail had slapped him, hard. Hurt and fury so plainly visible in her face that John regretted his words immediately. He hadn't meant to to lose his temper like that and to shout these words. Everybody at Clemens Point must have heard them, not that it was really a surprise for anybody. Fighting, screaming and arguing with each other seemed the only thing him and Abigail were able to do lately.

 

And yet it had been almost liberating to say the words that were on his mind every time somebody of his fellow gang members felt the urge to berate him for the choices he had made, for refusing to be a father and for not wanting to be a happy family togehter with his wife and the child. He wasn't a father, he didn't want to be a father! When he looked into the round face of the boy he just didn't feel the urge to look after the child and be there for him.

 

It had already been four years, almost five, since Abigail had announced that she and John would expect a baby soon. She had looked so happy then, a bright smile on her red lips and her eyes so full of joy and carefree optimism. It was a happiness that John just couldn't understand. Who would want to put a kid in this world? Who would look forward to spending all their time and energy on another human being day in and day out when it wasn't even sure that they themselves would survive the next month?

 

And then there was the other problem that made it impossible for him to imagine himself as a part of this family, because John was neither a father nor a husband to his loving and faithful wife. He had seen Abigail with Javier and Bill, hell, he had seen her with Dutch too and the worst thing was that he didn't care. He just couldn't find it in him to care. Sure, he had enjoyed her company at night, he liked her honest and open way of speaking her mind and the way she made him feel wanted and appreciated, but there was just no desire to really be with her. There was no love.

 

With a frustrated huff he rubbed a hand over his face trying to get rid of the burning dryness in his eyes. The unopened whiskey bottle that he had grabbed when he had left the camp in a hurry was standing in front of him on the log he was sitting on, amber liquid shining in the light of the fire, taunting him to drown the memory of the last hours in blissful oblivion. He knew his was running away ... again. The knowledge that he was very close to making the same mistake he had made two years ago made his stomach churn with bitter bile.

 

In a fit of blind anger he had left them and now he was here, miles away from Clemens Point, alone with his thoughts and memories. It felt so much like it did two years ago. Him sitting in front of a fire, whiskey bottle in his hand, trying to find a way out of this overwhelming mess that his life had become. It also felt like he was as close to finding a solution for his problems as he was two years ago.

 

The brunet finally opened the whiskey bottle before raising it to his lips and taking two big gulps of the brown liquid, feeling the smokey-sweet burn of it on his tongue and letting it calm his nerves. I was ridiculous how much of an idiot he was and how he repeated the same mistakes over and over again, not being able to learn, not being abler to make anything better. And maybe Arthur was right when he had called him a coward and a fool. The older man had been so mad at him when he had mentioned his doubts one night. It was the night before he had decided to leave all of them.

 

 _"You really think she would ch_ _ose you as the farther if the kid is Dutch's? You're a pathetic bastard, Marston!"_ The memory of the words that Arthur had shouted at him was still ringing in his head. There had been a raw pain his voice, so dark and bitter like burnt molasses, that John just couldn't understand.

 

The truth was, he didn't know if it was really him who had fathered the child. Dutch was as much a father as he was. He was good at turning young boys into outlaws, but he wasn't somebody to provide a young woman and a small child with a home and a steady income. John wouldn't put it past the man to just leave the two of them somewhere in one of the small villages or homesteads they usually passed, pressing a couple of Dollar bills in Abigail's hand and reassuring her in his warm and confident voice that made pretty much anybody belief in him and his stories that leaving them was all for the best, because the life of an outlaw was just too much of a danger, because the people in his gang relied on his guidance and because the plan he had was just too grand to just give it up.

 

John's thoughts came to an abrupt end when he suddenly felt the sharp blade of a hunting knife pressed against his throat.

 

"Don't move." The two words were nothing but a rough growl against the back of his neck and the young outlaw froze instinctively.The sharp edge was sliding slowly, almost tenderly over his skin as the man sat down on the log behind him. Cold sweat was gathering between his shoulder blades when he felt the tip of the knife scratching the sensitive spot right below his jawbone. He hadn't heard the man approach him, no snapping twigs, no rustling leaves, no nothing. This fact unnerved John almost more than the sharp metal that was currently threatening his life. He was almost sure that there was nobody else apart from the man, not that his would change anything if the man decided to slit his throat. It would only take minutes to let him bleed out like a slaughtered pig.

 

"You've been a bad boy, Johnny." A smile was now audible in this voice and John didn't even have to guess anymore who the person was that was holding the weapon to his throat. The dark haired gunslinger could feel relief mixing with annoyance when he realized that it was Arthur. The fear he had felt only seconds ago had his heart still racing in his chest. He swallowed hard only to feel the press of the sharp blade against his Adam's apple.

 

"You think this is funny? Back off, Morgan!" John seized the hand that held the knife, trying to push it away from his neck. Instead of taking the knife away Arthur pressed the blade little bit harder against his throat, forcing his head back further and making the younger lean back against his shoulder.

 

"Is that a way to speak with the local deputy sheriff? I could throw you into a cell for what you did." The dark-blond gunslinger pressed the flat side of the blade against his jugular as he spoke and John could feel the cool metal getting heated up by the warmth of his skin. "Robbing innocent people. Stealing, killing, poaching too."

 

His eyes flickered to the piece of bird meat that looked more like a piece of coal now and was smoking heavily on the small grill over the fire. The original owner of this little camp site including the meat on the grill and the tend that was standing on the opposite site of the campfire was lying in the bushes a couple of feet away from them. John had put a nice little bullet hole in his head before the man had the chance to ask any questions.

 

“You're an asswipe not a sheriff. Get off me!” The young outlaw felt his temper flaring up. Not caring if he got himself cut he wrenched the knife away from his neck.

 

When he turned around Arthur was sitting right behind him, the hunting knife still in his hands and that ridiculous gleaming sheriff star on his chest. The annoyance he had felt deflated almost immediately when he saw the amused smile that lingered on Arthur's lips. The thin lines at the corners of his eyes appeared deeper in the half shadow of the evening and the light of the camp fire and John was struck how much Arthur didn't look anymore like the twentie-something year old man he had met almost 15 years ago. It suited him somehow, this older look, and it was only natural that their way of living had left its traces on his face as well as his soul.

 

"What're you doing out here?" Arthur finally asked, sheathing the knife and taking the bottle from John's hand while putting a cigarette between his lips.

 

"Was on my way to Rhodes. Maybe find a woman that let's me stay with her for the night," It was a lie, but there was no need to let the older man know what had happened at camp and that he was running from everything again.

 

The displeased frown that crossed the other's face was something he had seen too many times in the last years. John knew he was already judged again by the older man and he wondered when he would finally get used to the feeling of being nothing but a waste of space, money and resources in Arthur's eyes.

 

"Wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, Marston." The dark-blond gunsiler took a swig of the bottle while speaking, eyes fixed on John. "You think any woman would find you attractive with that scarred up muck of yours?"

 

John had lost the feeling of embarrassment and humiliation that usually came with words like these long ago. It only left a dull bitterness in his chest, mostly because the words came from somebody who never cared about their looks simply because they didn't have to. He knew he wasn't attractive and a pair of scars on his face hardly made it worse. There was a reason why there was no mirror in his tend.

 

"Yeah, my pretty face will probably not do the trick.” John took the whiskey bottle from Arthur while he spoke, even though he didn't even feel like drinking anymore. “I don't even have enough money with me to pay one of the whores.” His words ended with a hollow laugh, the tired resignation in his voice was unmistakable.

 

The worst thing was that Arthur was almost certainly right and that there was probably not one person in Rhodes that would consider him as a fitting company even if it was just for a couple of hours. With a tired sigh he rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the ridges of his still healing scars, the slightly gritty feeling of day old dirt and the rough scratch of his stubble under his fingers. He was a goddamn mess.

 

John heard a rustle besides him and was sure the other had decided to leave him to his thoughts and self pity. Instead Arthur was suddenly right next to him, grabbing his chin between his fingers and turning his face towards the light of the fire. The surprised sound that had escaped John turned into a displeased hiss, when he felt the fingers digging hart into his skin while Arthur scrutinized every angle of his face.

 

"On the second glance, you're not half bad," the older man said, releasing his face again and taking the bottle that was tilting dangerously in John's lap threatening to spill the rest of the liquor over his pants and boots.

 

The mischievous glimmer in Arthur's eyes was enough to make the young outlaw regret that he even opened his mouth in the first place. He knew that look. It was the same look Arthur had when he took the time to tell anybody who was willing to listen what a useless fool John Marston was and how John Marston had fucked up again. He hated it when the older man treated him like an idiot, like something that was good for a laugh but nothing else.

 

"Stop patronizing me, Morgan!" John meant to shout those words, putting an end to the whole conversation, instead his words came out in a sullen and petulant way. A heavy weight settled in his stomach. Dealing with Arthur in this kind of mood was as high on his list of things to avoid like the reproachful looks, the contempt and disdain he saw in the eyes of his fellow gang members. He just wasn't willing do get into another argument about any of his flaws and shortcomings that night.

 

John was starting to get up from the tree when he was yanked back by his shirt. With an amused snort that Arthur didn't even bother to hide he pulled John back on the old log, ignoring the flailing limps of the younger and the half-hearted struggle he put up. For a second John was reminded of the mock fights they sometimes had when he had been a teenager. It was almost ridiculous to call them fights, they were more spontaneous tussles often for no reason whatsoever. Most of the times it was Arthur who won their little brawls being the older, stronger and cleverer one, but John never found it in him to regret it when he ended up under Arthur, being pinned down by strong arms, thighs flanking his hips and a smile brighter that the sun beaming down at him. And now they were sitting astride on the old rotting tree trunk opposite of each other, their knees pumping together awkwardly and John was almost sure that the memory of them rolling around in the grass, sand or mud or wherever they were at that moment must be something of another life.

 

Arthur took a last drag on his cigarette before throwing the stub into the fire. A small half-smile was still gracing his lips as he cupped John's face in both hands. His grip was sure, but gentle, making it impossible for the younger man to turn his head away and as he leaned in close, so close that John could see the flecks of green in his blue eyes. The dark haired outlaw was only able to hold his breath, feeling his arms dangle uselessly at his sides as he stared into the pools of green and blue that were, in his opinion, almost too pretty for a man like Arthur Morgan.

 

"Your eyes are quite nice," Arthur commented offhandedly. "Well, right now not so much. Glowering at me through that mop of greasy hair makes you look a bit like a moody dog." He continued with a quiet laugh, pushing his dark brown hair aside and letting his fingers linger on the soft skin right below his eyes. "Dark and expressive, strange color though."

 

John closed his eyes and tried to turn his face away only to be stopped by Arthur who rubbed his thumbs gently, way too gently, over his cheekbones. The young gunslinger hated the fact that he could feel himself actually lean into the touch.

 

“Just stop this bullshit already.” He sounded irritated, of course he did, but there was also something else making his voice waver. The older man ignored his comment, his gaze still fixed on John, taking in the reaction of the younger.

 

"I also like the way you look at me when you didn't expect a compliment. All pleased and surprised." John expected a laugh to follow the words. When it didn't come he opened his eyes again and saw that the smirk on the lips of the older man had turned into something warmer.

 

The young gunslinger felt his ears burn red, hoping that the other man wouldn't see it in the twilight of the evening. What an idiot he was for letting Arthur get so close. He knew he was an open book for the other man. His eyes always betrayed what he was feeling. Being so close to Arthur and being scrutinized like the older man had never took the time before to really look at John made matters only worse. The hands that held his face wandered lower, thumps brushing over his unshaven chin and jaw.

 

“I love your neck and the noise you make when I suck on that spot right here.” John didn't need to ask which spot Arthur meant. The soft touch of Arthur's fingers had him remember the feeling of warm lips and sharp teeth pressed against that skin of his neck. The memory alone was enough to make him crave more of Arthur's touch.

 

The hands of the older man were slowly wandering over his shoulders and chest. Even though he was still fully clothed the touch of the other man felt strangely intimate.

 

"I love how your hips fit into my hands." Arthur wrapped his broad hands around his waist, pulling him closer and onto his lap and John had to spread his legs a bit more to accommodate the broader form of the other gunslinger.

 

"Your legs.” Arthur continued unabashed, hiking one of John's knee up his side and kneading the inside of his thighs with his thumps. “I love it when you wrap your long legs around me."

 

The dark haired outlaw was breathing hard by now. He buried his face against Arthur's neck, breathing in the warm smell of sunburned earth, leather and smoke, just enjoying the warmth and closeness of the other man. It had been too long since anybody had touched him, since anybody had even dared to come close to him.

 

Arthur's hands cradled his head again, making him look up and into the eyes of the older outlaw. The brunet was rather pliant and relaxed, almost docile when he leaned in and pressed a heated kiss to one of the wrists next to his face, a gesture that made Arthur brush his thump over his lips, before he continued to speak.

 

"Love it how you look when I fuck you, how you feel around my dick." John didn't know if it was the gruff voice murmuring those words or the hands that were still roaming over his body, but he felt the slow burn of arousal settle low in his stomach.

 

A hungry look came over Arthur's face. It was the same look he had seen so many years ago and that he could see from time to time flicker in those blue orbs. The memory of strong hands holding him down and spreading his legs apart, of a hot tongue licking burning patterns over his skin, of Arthur's cock pressing into him, making him scream and moan at the same time, was enough to make his mouth go dry and his dick half hard.

 

It had been too long since the other had touched him like this, always holding himself back, always making sure that John remembered that he was hated by the older man. The last months had been torture and John could think of nothing else than the urge and the need he felt at that moment. When John came back after one year of living apart from the gang he had tried to fix things between them and make it right again, only to be shoved away or punched in the face. The words that had followed had hurt more than a broken nose or a bruised jaw.

 

"You should see yourself right now. Little John Marston, so desperate to be loved." The taunting words brought John back from his thoughts. That mocking smirk was back on Arthur's lips. "You know I cannot give this to you,” He added and for a moment the darked haired cowboy could have sworn that he saw more than smugness and ridicule flicker in those blue eyes.

 

“I don't care for love.” John didn't lie. It wasn't love he wanted. Not when love meant that he was told day in and day out what a terrible human being he was and that he should forget about everything he wanted just to become something that he just didn't want to be.  Right now he wanted to forget, to leave the whole mess with Abigail and the child she called their son behind him. John just wanted something else, even though he wasn't sure what. It somehow felt like he was missing an option – a way out – that he never really had and he felt shaken to the core when he thought about the choice he might need to make: Staying and bearing the pressure, the accusations and disappointment that came with not being what was expected of him or leaving and drifting through a seemingly endless world that held no purpose or goal, knowing that he would never be able to go back to the only family he had ever known.

 

"Is this why you never kissed me?" He was relieved to hear that his voice sounded steadier than he felt at the moment. A questioning look was the only answer he got. The flames of the campfire flickering in Arthur's blue orbs, making them look like cold glass marbles. Aloof and distant, like something John was not allowed to touch.

 

"You never kissed me. Not once. You fucked me, but you never kissed me. Because you think this is about love?" The brunet was sure he had messed up once again when he saw one of Arthur's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and felt a hand that came to rest on his chest, stopping him from saying another word. He swallowed, suddenly losing his nerves. Christ, what was he even getting himself into?

 

"You want me to kiss you?" The unbelieving tone in Arthur's voice made him cringe. The dark haired outlaw couldn't answer. Embarrassed with his own foolishness he averted his eyes and he was more aware than ever that Arthur could probably read every thought on his face. Even when he felt a small tap on his chin he kept stubbornly staring at the rotten old tree stump that probably once belonged to the tree trunk they were sitting on. He didn't want to see the mocking look, the amusement and pity in the blue eyes of his fellow outlaw.

 

Arthur's lips met his, a chaste kiss at first, just his plush and slightly rough lips slowly moving against his own. It reminded him of the kiss he had stolen from Mary-Beth some months ago. She had blushed so prettily afterwards, something that John was sure the other cowboy didn't do right now. The gentle press of a tongue against his lips had him open his mouth with a sigh. He could taste the bitterness of tobacco and a sharp spicy sweetness that came from the whiskey they had shared earlier. A thumb grazed his jawline while fingers brushed along his neck, making him lean into the kiss. Arthur was clearly experienced at this and John could only guess who his teacher had been when Arthur licked deeper into his mouth and let his tongue roll over his own in a slow, swirling motion. The feeling of Arthur's tongue brushing against his own send a spark through him that made his hands clench hard in the old shirt the other man wore. The moan that was starting to rise in his chest turned into a surprised yelp when he felt teeth sinking briefly into his bottom lip before Arthur's warm tongue licked gently of the slightly sore spot.

 

"Better?" There was still this amused and mocking quality in the voice of the other man, like the prospect of having John all flustered and worked up was just too amusing to pass up. "Want me to pat your head too?" It felt like a slap in the face. The words made the younger man want to punch him. He was almost sure that the Arthur could hear the growl that was rising in his chest.

 

The young outlaw could feel his hands ball into fists, thoroughly pissed off by the spiteful and arrogant attitude that Arthur had displayed, but something that made him pause. It was the way Arthur kept looking at his lips, the way his hands wandered slowly from his thighs to his ass and the way his breath caught in his throat when John pressed in just a bit closer. It was obvious that the little game he had played with John had affected him as well.

 

Instead of throwing a punch John kissed Arthur again, getting another taste of this bitter and spicy sweetness, before letting his lips brush along his cheek and jaw, his fingers winding into his dark-blond locks. The hands that had settled on his ass pulled him further onto his lap when he started to grind slowly against the other man and he could hear Arthur take a sharp breath.

 

"Let me have this, Arthur. Please." John didn't care that he sounded like he was almost begging the other man knowing that he was so close to getting what he wanted. "Going to be good. I promise.” He was barely aware of the words he murmured against Arthur's lips, his hands were already working on the buttons of the other man's shirt, almost ripping it open, so desperate to feel the warm skin of the older man's chest under his hands.

 

"Easy now, slow down." Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders, evading the kiss that John tried to plant on his lips. "I'm not going to do this on a tree. I'm not keen on having splinters digging into my ass when I fuck yours.”

 

The older gunslinger pointed at the tent that stood several feet away from them, urging John to get up from his lap. Without another word the younger untangled himself from him. He started unbuttoning his trousers when he saw Arthur get up as well and toeing off his boots without looking where they landed, almost stumbling and falling flat on his face when he tripped over the pant leg that got caught on one of his legs.

 

“You coming?” John turned around when the other man didn't follow him. He was already half naked with only his shirt remaining. Impatient as always when it came to sex.

 

“Let me get something first.” Arthur was already rummaging in one of his saddle bags. He retrieved a small square tin jar before joining the younger man in the small tent.

 

With clumsy fingers John tried to unbutton his shirt when Arthur positioned himself between his legs, putting the small jar with Vaseline on the bedroll next to his hips. He could hear the rustling of jeans being unbuttoned before a strong pair of hands gripped his knees, splaying him wide open. The light haired gunslinger didn't waste any time. He uncapped the little pot of Vaseline and dipped his fingers into the thick, gel like substance before spreading the smooth balm over his digits while his gaze roamed over the body that was spread out below him.

 

John's fingers skimmed teasingly over his belly and half hard cock, making the older man watch as he let his hand traveled lower and lower. He loved having Arthur's eyes on him, having the attention of the older man to himself. And for a moment John wondered what did go wrong in their relationship that it was all the same to him if Arthur was caressing, hitting, kissing or cutting him as long as it was him and nobody else.

 

"Going to get you nice and open for me." His words were more of a warning for John and he could feel a slicked up digit rub against his tight hole, before it breached him, the jelly making it an easy slide. Arthur watched his face avidly when he began to move his finger slowly in and out of his hole, just letting the younger get used to the feeling, adding a second finger after a while.

 

John saw that his cock was already starting to leak precum, creating a small wet patch on the hem of his shirt that he still hadn't been able to unbutton completely. It had been so long since another man had touched him that he had forgotten how good it felt to have other fingers than his own in him. The slide of those long and thick digits in him made his toes curl in pleasure. His eyes fell shut and he bit back a moan when the older man's fingers finally found that spot in him that made a sudden warmth spread trough his stomach and pelvis.

 

"C'mon, I'm ready" The need in John's gravel-rough voice was evident as he reached for the older man with the same impatience he had shown before, wanting to finally feel the other in and around him.

 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and pinned him down onto the thin blanket that covered the bedroll, holding him in place while the steady movement of Arthur's other hand made the muscles in his stomach and thighs spasm. The dark and possessive look in those blue eyes that John could barely see in the semi-darkness of the tend had him buck his hips, fucking himself on those slick, thick fingers in side him. God, he needed to feel more!

 

"You're not ready,” Arthur said, lust heavy in his voice. His eyes flickering down, watching his knuckles kiss the wet rim of John's hole before pulling out almost completely. "I don't plan to go easy on you tonight, boy." The hard jab against his prostate that followed his words had John keening and panting. His fists clenched tightly in the thin blanket below him, not sure if the older man would tolerate his touch.

 

The burn when Arthur pressed a third finger in was something he didn't know he would love so much. He could feel his hole fluttering around the fingers when the older man pressed them in deeper. Arthur didn't let him get used to the feeling, steadily pushing in and stretching the tight hole even more.

 

“Look at you, Johnny. You're made for this.” The growled whisper against his hear had John shudder in response, clenching down hard on the digits in him. “Lying there and just taking it.”

 

He didn't care if he looked like two dollar whore, spread open and just waiting to be used. Arthur was taking him apart bit by bit and John was sure he shouldn't love the feeling so much. He was already so close to coming and they hadn't even started yet.

 

Hot lips pressed against his neck and he couldn't help but groan and turn his head to the side offering more of his skin to the dark-blond man, wanting to feel sharp teeth sink into his skin, wanting to feel Arthur lose control. The sharp nips along his neck and chest made his hips twitch in pleasure and yet the small bites where just not enough. He knew that they would fade in a couple of hours.

 

“Arthur, I need more!” John's voice sounded not like his own. Breathless and hoarse, high strung and desperate for everything Arthur was willing to give him.

 

Blue eyes, blown wide and dark with lust, met his as the dark haired man cradled the back of Arthur's head with one hand and pulled at his hair when he felt another sharp nip. He wouldn't beg, not for this, but wanted to see the purple bruises and feel the stinging pain when he touched them. The memory of Arthur's mouth on his body being enough to bring him off during the nights when he had only his hand as company.

 

“Son of a bitch!” The soft and gentle kiss that was planted right below his sternum and the too slow slide of the fingers in him had John whine in frustration. He knew Arthur was teasing both of them. He also knew Arthur loved leaving and seeing his marks on his body as much as John did. The displeased growl the brunet made as the he tightened the hold he had on Arthur's dark blond hair earned him a snarl in response.

 

“Greedy little shit.” The words were followed by another agonizingly slow push and pull of the fingers in him, but this time he could fell teeth scratching over his skin. Gentleness obviously didn't work for them and the young gunslinger was more than fine with it.

 

John wasn't able to hold back the loud moan that was ripped out of him when he felt Arthur's teeth finally sink into the tender flesh right below his ribs while the fingers in him rubbed over that bundle of nerves again that made him forget the world around him completely.

 

The dark haired outlaw was rocking his hips back against Arthur's hand, spreading his legs wider and hoping to feel the fingers press again into the spot that had a crazy burst of colors explode inside of his mind and caused this wonderful intense rush in his veins. Instead the fingers left him with a wet squelch, causing him to groan in disappointment. All he could do was lie there, panting and trying to get get used to the feeling of sudden emptiness.

 

"You're going to ride me," Arthur said, patting him on one thigh before shoving him on his side and sitting down on the blanket next to him. Without hesitating John straddled the hips of the other man and pushed him down with a firm hand on his chest. He liked how Arthur looked under him. Lips red from their earlier kiss, a slight sheen of sweat glowing on his skin, dick hard and glistening with lube and his heart beating fast under his palm. It was something that he would never willingly admit, but right at that moment Arthur looked and felt a lot like every wet dream John has had since he was fifteen.

 

John reached behind him and circled Arthur hard prick with his hands, feeling the slick length slide between his ass checks as he lined it up with his hole. He started to lower himself down, waiting for the first stretch that would come with having Arthur's dick in him, but the tight ring just wouldn't give.

 

A soft “Relax” was the only warning he got before the light haired cowboy grabbed his hips, holding him in place while he pushed up hard, finally breaching the tight muscle and making John forget how to breath. With a soft moan the older man loosened the hold he had on his hips, encouraging John to continue on his own. Sinking down on Arthur's dick was always a challenge. The stretch and burn was almost too much, but John kept going. His thighs started to tremble when he felt the length in him go deeper than the other's finger had been able to reach, the persistent stretch sending tremors up his spine. It was overwhelming, this relentless slide and raw sensation of his body opening up for Arthur, and for a moment he wasn't sure if it was already too much or still not enough.

 

John could see the restrain in Arthur's face, fighting the urge to push up into him, as he tilted his hips slightly, sinking down and letting the length fill him up completely. A shudder went though his whole body when he felt the older man's hips against his ass. Arthur was so deep in him that he could feel a strange heat spreading right below his navel. His hand was shaking slightly when he put it on his stomach, trying to get used to the feeling. John had never felt so full and for a dizzying moment he was almost sure that he would be able to feel Arthur's cock through the skin of his stomach if he pressed down just a bit more.

 

He started raising and lowering himself slowly, making himself feel every inch that was sliding in and out of him. The feeling of Arthur's thick cock dragging heavily against his inner walls had him gasping for air which brought a self-satisfied look into the older man's eyes.

 

“Arrogant bastard,” John managed between a pant and a moan when he picked up the pace and moved his hips a bit faster.

 

“Told you I love how you look when I fuck you.” Arthur let his eyes travel over his body, one hand resting on his hip, the other on his thigh, visibly enjoying the sight of the younger man above him.

 

John leaned back, changing the angle of the penetration and regretted it immediately. The way the hard length rubbed over sweet spot inside him so perfectly made him keen and whimper, his head dropping back and his mouth open with a breathless, almost inaudible moan. The movements of his hips came to a stuttering stop when he repeated the movement just to feel the same hard stab against his sweet spot.

 

The patience the older gunslinger had shown before came to an end when he saw John's movements getting more an more sloppy. Gripping John's hips tightly Arthur started to rock his hips up into him when he felt that it was too much for John to continue moving on his own. The hand on the brunet's hips lifting him slightly up and letting gravity do the rest of the work. John clenched his eyes shut and bit back another moan when he felt the head of Arthur's dick rubbing against his prostate with almost every push. He was sure he wouldn't last long if Arthur kept on moving like this.

 

John's own dick was peeking out from between the flaps of his shirt, dribbling steadily on Arthur's stomach with every push of his hips. He was hurtling towards his orgasm so very fast that it left him unsettled and overwhelmed, but for the love of God, he didn't want to stop _. John_ reached down to finally give his aching dick the attention it deserved only to have his hand slapped away. The challenging look in the Arthur's eyes made it clear what the other outlaw wanted.

 

Shivers were running through his body and he was starting to strain against the hold Arthur had on his hips when when older man pushed up into him faster and harder than before. It was ridiculous and pathetic, the brunet realized, but suddenly it didn't seem impossible anymore to come with just Arthur's prick in his ass. A moan was punched out of him when Arthur's hips snapped up and rammed into his prostate again, making his stomach tightened. He felt himself tethering on the brink of coming.

 

“I'm close,” John managed between gasps, arching his back in pleasure and meeting the hard thrusts as good as he could. Another hard push was enough to dip him over the edge. Arthur's hands were clutching his hips and he was driving up hard into the body of the younger while John came undone on top of him. The waves of arousal that were crashing into him were almost too much and he could feel himself clamping down on Arthur's dick that was still moving inside him in quick, rapid movements while his come was splashing over the older man's stomach and chest in creamy white ribbons.

 

For a moment his world was nothing but the warm, relaxed feeling of pure satisfaction and content. The high buzz in his hears and the haziness that glimmered like heat in the dessert in front of his eyes that left a mellow softness in him only lasted a couple of seconds before his senses came back to him.

 

"You look so good like this. Absolutely gorgeous." Arthur's voice was steady if a bit breathless. John could barely hear the words. His heart was still thundering in his chest the rush of blood in his ears made everything seem distant and far away.

 

The older man sat up, keeping John on his lap as he dipped his fingers into the puddle of come on his chest. He brought them up to John's lips, smearing the fluid over his lower lip before pushing the fingers between his lips and teeth. The dark haired gunslinger could see the pleased look in his face when he parted his lips obediently and let Arthur push his fingers deep into the warm wetness of his mouth. Without thinking about it the he started licking around the digits, tasting the salty bitterness of his own come and feeling the rough skin of Arthur's finger on his tongue.

 

“Yeah, such a good boy.” The raspy drawl had him panting around the Arthur's fingers. “Bet I could make you do anything for me right now.”

 

The young gunslinger scrapped his teeth over the fingers in his mouth before giving them another lick. Blue eyes were burning into his own and John's head was swimming with feverish heat and arousal, the taste of his own come heavy on his tongue. Every word from the older outlaw, every touch and every thrust was stoking a fire in him that threatened to burn him alive. The man made him lose his mind and the only thing he could do was beg for more.

 

John let his tongue slide between Arthur's index and middle finger, letting his lips close around the knuckles as he started to suck gently. He could hear the sharp intake of breath and felt the older man roll his hips, making him aware of the thick length that was still buried deep inside him.

 

Letting spit soaked fingers trail along his neck and collarbone the light haired outlaw rocked into the body of the younger man one last time before starting to pull the brunet off him. Without getting any explanation from the other John felt himself being lifted up and of the still hard dick, confused why Arthur hadn't finished in him.

 

“Turn around,” Arthur instructed the brunet, his eyes lingering on the red flush on John's chest and face and the slightly swollen lips that were still shining wetly with spit.

 

"Give me a second," John said breathlessly, wiping the sweat from his face with a trembling hand. He felt like half of his brain still wouldn't work properly, not to mention the tingly, numb feeling in his hands and legs that made it almost impossible for him to move.

 

With a callous grin on his lips Arthur seized his chin, making sure he had his undivided attention. The thump that pressed hard into his bottom lip had John bare his teeth, fighting the urge to bite the finger. The brunet could see the twitch and strain of the muscles when the older man fought against the urge to just push him down and take what he wanted. Lust and a burning desire for John had stripped away most of the gentleness that Arthur possessed.

 

“Told I will not go easy on you tonight. Now get on your hands and knees." The soft but short kiss that was pressed to his lips was so unlike Arthur's words and John felt himself being torn between protesting and seeing how far the older man was willing to push him.

 

Before he could answer the older gunslinger had grabbed his arm and had shoved him hard onto the bedroll before manhandling him onto his hands and knees, spreading his shaking thighs further apart. John tried to brace himself for what was about to come when he felt Arthur nip sharply at his neck while pushing into him again, making the younger man groan in pleasure and pain as he felt his abused hole stretched wide around the thick length again. A ragged whimper was punched out of him when Arthur bottomed out with a hard thrust of his hips.

 

“Arthur … ah, h-hold on... I c-” John didn't get any further. A hand between his shoulder blades was pushing him down onto the bedroll and Arthur didn't wait for the other to adjust to the new position, fucking into the body below him at a punishing pace. The wet smacking slap of skin against skin sounded obscene and the wetness of lube and precum John could feel sliding slowly over his balls made reach down between his legs wanting to feel the stretch of his swollen hole as the older man pounded into him. His fingers skimmed over his stomach down to his crotch and to his own surprise he found himself hard again. Arthur's hand joined his and the palm that rubbed roughly over his cock head had him writhe in discomfort, too overcome with the sensation.

 

It was heaven and hell at the same time and John bit his lips hard, squeezing his eyes shut as he started to rub himself against the palm on his dick, seeking out the friction that Arthur's hand provided. A hot tongue licked over his spine as a thump rubbed over the head of his cock, smearing precum over the sensitive skin. A shaky groan left the dark haired outlaw, his eyes going wide and he desperately scrambled for some kind of purchase, his fingernails clawing into the wrist of the hand that was holding onto his hip.

 

“You're so desperate for my dick that you're hard and wet again.” Arthur's voice sounded as wrecked and fucked out as John felt. “Come on, Johnny.” Another breathless grunt, another slow slide of his hand on John's prick. “I know you want to come again.”

 

The young outlaw couldn't help but thrust into the hand, even though his whole body seemed to be too sensitive, making every touch and caress feel like thousands of needles pricking his skin. With that terrible amazing feeling of lust, pain and arousal that was thrumming through his body he felt himself getting closer again. He pressed his face into his underarm as the blazing heat that traveled up his spine grew and it almost felt like he was burning up from the inside.

 

“I'm going to come inside you, John.” The hand on his dick tightened for a moment as Arthur spoke. “Going to come so deep in you that you'll feel it for days. Dripping wet, ready to be fucked again.”

 

The words where enough to send him over the edge. John made a small, wet sound in his throat, closer to a sob than a moan, when he felt himself come for the second time that night. It felt excruciatingly glorious, the way his orgasm was wrung out of him, his body spasming with the force of it as his release streaked the blanket below him in watery white stripes. The hand on his dick milked the last drop out of him and Arthur groaned deeply in his chest when he felt John clench hard around his cock, still pushing into him relentlessly and making the feeling almost too intense.

 

The rush that came with his climax made his mind going blank. Everything had faded into blistering white heat and John heard the distant sound of somebody – him, he realized – gasping and moaning Arthur's name. The aftershocks of his orgasm had him twitching and trembling, his body feeling numb and oversensitive at the same time. A sharp pain in his legs brought him back sooner than expected and John squirmed when he felt the muscles in his legs were starting to cramp up. He felt drained, black dots danced in his vision and he was more aware then ever that Arthur is still pounding into him.

 

Arthur's hands suddenly tightened around his hips, yanking him back onto his cock so hard and pushing in so deep that it felt like his inner organs were rearranged. His inner walls were fluttering weakly around the thick girth in him, pain and pleasure mixing together and it felt like a molten lump of metal had settled down low in his stomach.

 

“Should have done that earlier. You tighten up so nicely.” The low raspy chuckle behind him sent a shudder through him. The words alone had him writhe and moan pathetically and he wasn't even sure if he was against the idea of being fucked so hard by Arthur Morgan that he couldn't even see straight anymore. John could feel himself tensing up when he felt a hand weaving into his hair. The pressure in his stomach made him want to come again, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do so.

 

“Too much,” He managed between clenched teeth, voice wavering and sounding almost panicked. Arthur's length buried deep inside him, pushing deeper and deeper, splitting him open and ruining him forever was all he could feel at that moment.

 

“Want me to stop?” Arthur slowed down, just rolling his hips and rocking into him slowly and with measured thrusts, sending tiny shock waves up John's spine that made his whole body tingle.

 

The dark haired man could only shake his head, not being able to speak anymore. He wanted it, he wanted to feel Arthur hot and heavy in his guts, taking his pleasure and filling him up completely. He wanted to feel Arthur come inside him.

 

The hand in his hair tightened suddenly, yanking his head back and making him scream when the dark-blond gunslinger pushed into him hard again. Tears were stinging at the corner of his eyes and he was getting light headed again.The hard, long thrusts in him got shorter and quicker, Arthur's rhythm faltering as his orgasm was approaching fast. John could hear him grunting against the back of his neck as he got closer, grinding into him and still going as deep as he could. With a last roll of his hips the older man came, buried completely in him. He could feel Arthur's dick pulsing in him, spurts of hot come filling him to the brim, adding to the sensation of being utterly claimed by this man.

 

They stayed like this for several moments. Both men breathing hard and John only realized that he was biting the blanked below him by the muted, quiet whine he heard himself make when Arthur started to slowly pull out of him. He could feel the softening dick rub against his abused walls before it left him with a loud, wet pop, leaving him empty and slick with come and lube.

 

A muffled "hnng" escaped him when he felt hands on his ass, spreading his ass cheeks apart. The come that was slowly dribbling out of his still slightly open hole made him feel too uncomfortable and sticky and he moaned brokenly when it was pushed back into him by broad fingers. All he could do was squirm when Arthur rubbed his thump over the swollen rim of his asshole feeling the ending of his nerves lighten up as if they were on fire.

 

"Jesus, you look wrecked." Amusement mingled with sated lust colored Arthur's voice when he finally spoke, his hands still caressing the soft flesh of John's ass.

 

The older man was probably right and he had a pretty good idea what he must look like with his dirty hair plastered to his sweaty cheeks and forehead, the bedroll below him covered in drool and his own come, ass up in the air, legs trembling from one, well, actually two of the best orgasms he ever had. He probably looked like he felt: Thoroughly used and fucked by Arthur Morgan.

 

Strong but gentle hands tucked at his sides, helping him to lay down on his side. John groaned in relieve when he stretched his legs and arms, hearing the joints popping loudly. There were hands on his body again, fingers stroking in lazy circles over his waist and hipbone, lips brushing over his neck and ear.

 

“You did so well. So perfect for me.” The gruff murmur made him boneless, dulling the discomfort and exhaustion he felt after what his body had been put through.

 

John closed his eyes, leaning into the touch and letting the words of praise wash over him. Basking in this rare moment of affection. He knew it wouldn't last long until Arthur would be back to his usual self. John liked the moments after their rough fucking when the older gunslinger was neither willing nor able to keep his hands off him and when every touch and every word was gentle and slow.

 

John must have drifted of to sleep, because he woke with a start when something small landed on the bedroll right next to his head. Bleary eyes focused on the tiny object that glinted weakly in the light of the campfire. He took the small silver coin before turning his head towards Arthur who was standing in front of the small tent, fully clothed and ready to leave.

 

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth when he tried to speak and he had to swallow several times before he was able to make his voice work. "You payin' me?" And for a hysterical moment he could actually imaging the scene of him and Arthur quarreling over how his ass was worth more than just 25 Cents.

 

"You will ride to Rhodes tomorrow morning, you idiot,” Arthur answered and the young gunslinger could practically hear the roll of his eyes. “You'll take a bath and you'll make yourself presentable. And then you will ride back to camp and you will apologize to Abigail. You will ask her for forgiveness for all the things you've done in the last years and you will keep your goddamn mouth shut when she tells you what a moron and a peace of shit you are.”

 

John closed his eyes in annoyance and resignation. He should have known how and why Arthur had found him here in the middle of nowhere and that the older man had known all along what had happened at the camp.

 

A kick against his foot made him open his eyes again and he saw the older man glowering down at him. Arthur was clenching his teeth hard, his lips nothing but a thin line as he tried to find the right words. It was like the he struggled with the decision to just do what was probably asked of him: To bring John back.

 

"Learn to love your family, Marston." The older man finally said and John could see it in his eyes that there were so many other things that the other wanted to say.

 

The young gunslinger nodded weakly, too tired and too sore to think about any of it. The food steps he could hear made it clear that Arthur wasn't expecting a proper response.

The only thing that John was left with was a ringing silence and the empty, painful feeling in his chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The things you learn when you write cowboy smut:  
> Vaseline (or petroleum jelly) was already on the marked in the second half of the 19th century. It was also pretty cheap with round about 10 cents per jar. Thanks to Mr. Robert Chesebrough the cowboys of the late 19th century could keep their hands smooth and their bums slippery.


End file.
